


To Mourn

by ADyingFlower



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Depression, Eating Disorders, Flashbacks, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Just self-indulgent sadness, M/M, Nothing to see here, Past Character Death, Suicide Attempt, This is just sad guys fair warning, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, endgame spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-07 02:14:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11613807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ADyingFlower/pseuds/ADyingFlower
Summary: To mourn: to feel or show great sadness because someone has diedThe sun rose. People moved on.Three people couldn't.





	1. The Shield

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tynxcann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tynxcann/gifts).



> So, WOW. Okay, first off I'm sorry? This is my first entry into FFXV, but I guess it'll leave an impression haha. HUGE thanks to Tyn for everything and just generally being an amazing person, so this is for you ^^
> 
> ...I enjoyed this far more than I should.
> 
> Next: The Sword

 

Gladio moves on, because that's what he has to do.

After ~~don’t think about his name don’t think about glowing eyes under the moon or lazy smiles pressed against his arm~~ the sun rose, Gladio struggled to put the pieces of Lucis back together. No more monarchy, instead, groups of former politicians and social leaders gathered in what was once the crown jewel of Insomnia for the _what now_. First, came resources, agriculture and husbandry to feed the incoming refugees by the thousands each day coming back for their former homes. Then, they struggled putting Lucis into something of a democracy, with elected officials and votes to the people.

It would take years, but he could live with that.

Iris and him get an apartment together, for old times sake more than anything else. She jokes that he’s making up for lost time during the darkness, as they call it nowadays. He laughs and agrees, because there’s nowhere he’d rather be than hanging out with his baby sister, who’s no longer putting on strawberry lip gloss and sewing dolls for a boy oblivious to her childish crush.

 ~~Noct~~ has a little something he wants to give you

wait, what? i do?

Instead, she’s a head taller and walks with a warriors stride, no longer fumbles for words as she once did and instead talks with sure confidence of a woman fully grown into herself instead of an easily impressed teenager they left on their journey to Altissia.

If he spots her on more than one occasion touching the moogle dolls lining her bedroom walls with reverence and sorrow in her hands and eyes, neither of them mention it.

The days he doesn’t spend with Iris, he spends with Cor in the rebuilding effort, to help clear the rubble and make room for the refugees returning home at last, works until his hands bleed and feet ache, until Cor looks at him with that mixed look he got that day in Lestallum when he said he needed to go, to go serve his king once more -

~~one last time -~~

Gladio doesn’t allow himself to relax, not fully. There’s so much to do, even he can see that much whenever he walks from his apartment to where Cor needs him that day, the ruins of Insomnia surrounding him, the sunlight reflecting off a building far in the distance he once spent too much time in teaching a boy who would _never_ -

Yet -

Yet -

He can’t allow himself the free time Cor keeps giving him over not so subtle glances at the rather expensive necklace hanging low on his chest compared to the rest of his outfit.

_He’s smiling at Gladio, too open for one who must be king._

_“It’s a good luck charm,” He explains, tucking the necklace more neatly against his shirt. “It’ll keep you safe so you won’t have to scar yourself for me anymore.”_

_Gladio laughs, because what’s the need for charms? But still, he wears it with him everywhere, visible on his bare chest, just to watch him light up in happiness._

If he pauses too long, stops in motion even for a second, then he’s done for. Instead, he find company with woman, taking walks with them through the streets and listening to them talk to fill the silence.

with him, there wasn’t a need to fill the silence in

He makes jokes that sometime they laugh at, other’s they stare at him in confusion as he realizes that it was an inside joke he hadn’t even thought about. Gladio holds their hands in him, small petite hands that have never held a sword in their life, no scars or calluses decorating their skin like a beautiful patchwork of the universe. They talk about their favorite foods, and the women with him makes a face when he absently mentions fish.

look at what I caught, Gladio!

puny, just like yours

hey!

~~his ears were red, and Gladio pulled on them to watch him jump~~

It’s tough, but it’ll get better. He knows it will.

It has too, doesn’t it?

Gladio makes plans to see the others, almost half a year after the sun rose again. Both Ignis and Prompto agree over phone, but he knows even before hanging up that Prompto is going to skip out. Sure enough, the day comes and Prompto fails to show. Ignis and him have tea in the silence of the apartment, and somewhere under the necklace, his chest aches.

~~He doesn’t think about the two empty places across from them~~

~~Doesn’t think about how terrified that three will become two~~

The silence is what gets him, what makes his visits to Ignis and Prompto less and less frequent over the next several months. Maybe it’s time they grew apart, the three of them got along just fine, but things were just...more difficult where there was an aching void when you turned expecting a quip that would never come or a laugh that was never there to begin with, no matter if they had ten years of experience to wipe out the other twelve.

~~three will never become four, no matter how much they want it to~~

So he moves on, even if it feels like he left part of his heart in the throne room where a fourth of them died all alone, promises of _i don’t want you to watch_ ringing in his ears as the the three of them ran to a long cooling body.

Gladio can’t mourn. He can’t stop and think, because their are people who need his help, every inch he makes here is an inch that helps them later on, and an inch that builds Lucis up all that faster.

But Iris won’t stop her gentle sorrow at the moogle plushies and prints she carries with her everywhere, Cor with his concerned looks and questions of how much sleep is he getting, is he eating, _nothing will fall apart if you rest for a day Gladiolus_.

He’s fine, he’s _fine_ . Why doesn’t anyone get that, dammit? Nothing will be fine if Lucis doesn’t learn to stand on its own, and soon. Nothing will be fine if Insomnia can’t be restored just like how ~~Noctis~~ wanted it -

too embarrassed to show off your scrawny body?

hey, I got muscle! you just can't see it

~~Gladio knew, he just liked teasing him~~

if you say so

Prompto called him one day, a year after they buried their king on the cliffs overlooking Insomnia, sobbing into the receiver and drunk out of his mind. Gladio listened to his blather about catoblepas and mushrooms for as long as he could before he had to hang up, his own hands trembling as he slammed the end call button and rushed off, to train, to do _something_ beside wallow in pointless grief.

_“Good hustle out there.”_

_He smiles back, dirt under his fingernails and lake water staining his pants. “Yeah, I know: I’m awesome.”_

The training dummies break under his hands like paper, and even if he knows he can’t waste them, not really, he had to get these damn memories out of his mind, to focus back on what needs to be given attention rather than these emotions twisting like a poison through his veins.

_“You’ve got a lot to learn before you’re king.”_

_Blue eyes stared up at him, a resolve harder than steel._

_“Then teach me.”_

_Gladio grinned at last, the boy becoming a prince in his mind for the first time_

~~_his king_ ~~

_“That’s why I’m here.”_

He wants to cry. He wants to scream, break the walls down, let the entire city feel his sorrow, his grief and rage because -

because -

_The two of them crammed in the back seat, dark hair being tossed by the wind and their legs pressed together under the too hot sun._

_They leaned together, and briefly over the middle seat, their hands brushed._

Alone, surrounded by broken training dummies and dents in the walls and floors, Gladio lets himself cry for the first time since they buried a too young king over the ruins of his once beloved city.

Burying his fingers in his hair, he let out a sob over his curled knees, hearing his necklace click lightly as it hit the floor.

we Amicitia are the king’s sworn shields

guard the king with our lives - that’s the way it’s always been

i’ve embraced my duty. and i take pride in it

when you can’t focus, i focus for you. it’s my job, so let me do it, alright?

 

alright

 

_“I’m sorry,” He sobbed, fingers barely brushing over the newly healed scar on his face._

_“It’s nothing,” Gladio waved off easily, catching the pale fingers in his. “I would do anything to protect you; not just because it’s my job, but also because it’s what I want, okay? So don’t feel guilty.”_

_It took a couple of moments, but he nodded slowly, tears still running tracks down his face. “Okay.”_

 

“Why did you have to go, Noctis?”

 

The sun rose.

Gladio sat up, wiped his cheeks stubbornly as he rose to his feet. Cleared the area as best he could, put his practice sword back in the rack.

He didn’t think about it, didn’t think about anything, really. Just kept on moving once more, for another year, two, three, with the hope that one day this gaping pit inside him would someday fix itself.

~~It wouldn’t~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..First time writing Gladio, I hope I did the big guy justice! His voice was surprisingly easy to grasp, despite how hard he is to write otherwise haha. To me, Gladio always seemed a person who deemed emotions secondary to duty, not realizing how detrimental this is to actively avoid the problem by just not thinking about it, or even acknowledging the name (how many times did he even _think_ about Noctis by name?) of it. 
> 
> So the pain just builds up over time, until, like a dam, it just explodes. And then it starts all over again, a never ending cycle.


	2. The Sword

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...Hi? Hahaha, sorry if there's any grammar mistakes! Once again, thanks to Tyn for providing me with the appropriate pictures of them crying their eyes out that only fueled my desire to update. I can't wait until they get to Prompto lol. 
> 
> HEADS UP there are some purposeful tense shifts here, just fair warning. 
> 
> Next up: The Heart

 

Ignis pretends he isn’t going insane, because he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

When the three of them went there different ways, Gladio to Insomnia and Prompto to Hammerhead, Ignis decided to stay in Lestallum. He could lend a helping hand there, and he had settled roots down in the humid city for the most part.

~~Or, that’s at least what he tells himself. In reality, he’s too scared to return to that place~~

Lestallum is getting quieter by the day, more and more refugees leaving the sweltering city in search of their old homes and rebuilding their lives after the darkness. He doesn’t dwell on it too much, though, focusing instead on his work and his time in the kitchen when he can.

~~“You’re spending too much time in your apartment”~~

let nothing stand in your way

you’ve got my back?

always

He cooks whenever he can, spice racks labeled with braille and food carefully sectioned off. Grab the ingredients, prep them, stir them in the pan, well season-

“Ew, Specs, did you have to add so many greens?”

Ignis jumped, oil spraying up from the pan as his panic wildly increased -

_No_

_ctis_

No, that isn’t right.

Noctis is dead. Has been dead. And no matter how much they try to ignore it or mourn, it’s never going away.

ah, something the matter?

just realized i’d never seen your face without your glasses

yes, well without them i could hardly make out yours, but we saw our way through it

~~It wasn’t true, not really, but the pun made Noctis smile~~

So he cleans up the mess, bandages his burned fingers in his bathroom, and sits back down in the living room.

It was much too quiet. It’s always too quiet.

~~His mind's a scattered mess~~

~~Is he going~~

~~Insane?~~

He shops in Lestallum, when he can, even if it’s just the little things or nothing at all. The vendors know him by name at this point, they greet him with strained voices instead of smiles and weary sighs, talks of lack of business with all the people moving back to their old homes, either to Insomnia or else where, now that daemons are no longer a concern.

i may have asked this already but is Ebony really all that great?

~~he has, countless of times, but he just likes to watch Ignis get agitated~~

i may have answered this before but yes, yes it is

On his way back to his apartment, groups of children run past him in squeals of _catch me if you can you can't catch me na nan boo boo -_ footsteps receding in the distance as an uneven gape struggles to catch up behind them.   

“Wait for me Iggy!”

Ignis feels a child brush against his side, and instinctively his arm reaches out to catch them from falling, only for it to go through thin air.

His eye closes, though there is no need to block out his sight, not any longer.

Of course.

_“Wait for me Iggy!”_

_Ignis slows to a stop, turning to look as Noctis struggles to keep up on chubby legs on their way to the Citadel library for Noctis’ reading lessons._

_He reaches a hand down, and Noctis takes it with a gaped smile, his front tooth having fallen out the day before in preparation for his adult teeth._

_“You’re the best, Specs!”_

It’s hard, he realizes, to learn how to live without someone you’ve basically raised since he himself was young. Noctis was such a big part of his core identity, but without him -

~~What’s the use of an adviser without a king?~~

It’s just hard. Not impossible. And Ignis can do this, he can, he knows he can.

If only he could stop hearing the voices of the past mixing in with the present.

It’s been nearly half a year, and the former group of three ~~four~~ homeless travelers decide to meet up in Insomnia over numerous calls. Gladio voice was almost content over the phone, but all the same he refuses to leave Insomnia, something which sent several warning bells off in his head and Prompto…

Well, Ignis didn’t expect him to show up. Sure enough, when he passed through Hammerhead, Cindy’s voice was tense and almost pitying as she told him that Prompto was too ill to visit _maybe next time sweet cheeks_.

He didn’t need his sight to know the caravan’s lights were turned off.

_The stars were blinding as Noctis leaned against his side, his head on Ignis’ shoulder as they watched the meteor shower above them._

_“Gotta hand it to you Ignis. I can’t believe you remember so much from when we were kids.” Noctis says with a fond smile, eyes firmly fixed on the heavens while Ignis couldn't look away from him, trapped in orbit like the planets to the sun._

_“Our past forms the foundation of our present. We mustn’t forget that which made us what we are today.” He wanted to say_ I could never forget about you _, but cowardice cured his tongue at the last moment. “A stellar sight, though. Pity the others aren’t here to enjoy it with us.”_

_Noctis looked back at him, his eyes alit by the falling stars around them. “No reason we can’t bring ‘em back with us tomorrow.”_

He paused as he passed by the Citadel on his way to Gladio’s apartment, hearing the familiar sound of the bells chiming in time of the hour.

Whispers on the streets that they’re going to turn it into a museum, a place to honor the fall of Insomnia and the royal family.

Everyone will remember the king who saved them all, the one who brought back the light by his heroic sacrifice. No one will remember the boy who crawled into Ignis’ bed because of the nightmares, the very same one who loved fishing and goofing off with his friends and the Tenebrae tart that even in the end he couldn’t figure out how to _make_ -

They will all remember the king of light. No one will remember Noctis.

Ignis, can you sense...light?

to a degree, yes

so when dawn breaks, you’ll know it?

i should, yes

~~His face was so pained, so desperately young~~

good to know

“That frown doesn’t fit you, Specs.”

Ignis kept walking past the steps of the Citadel, feeling the burn of blue eyes watching him the entire time from the steps of the Citadel.

_“Don’t leave, please don’t leave.”_

_“You know I have to.”_

Gladio was fine, or acted fine. Ignis noticed new scars on his hands when he passed the cup of tea over, and a familiar weight in his shoulders that was just a bow meant to snap. Neither of them commented on the absences in the room, and a part of him was grateful for that.

~~It hurts~~

~~He just wants Noctis~~

~~But what of Noctis~~

~~To come home~~

_“Last time...you almost had it,” Noctis admitted over downcasted gazes at the dinner table, stirring his cup noodles thoughtlessly._

_Ignis hesitated a moment, before recollection hit him. “Oh, you mean the sweets?”_

_Noctis didn’t meet his gaze. “I could definitely go for some more.”_

_It was an apology, and under the table their ankles crossed._

He tries to sleep that night with varying degrees of success, drifting in and out as he tossed and turned over the sounds of Noctis humming as he did his math homework.

_“Specs,” He whined, looking up at him from where his face was pressed into the papers. “I don’t get this.”_

_Ignis smiled indulgently, taking a seat across from him. “I suppose I can spare a few minutes to help out.” Noctis’ cheer was only overshadowed by his smile._

Ignis cooks by himself in his apartment because he doesn’t know what else to do. Everything he built for himself over the last three decades is gone, love as beautiful as fine china smashed against the ground.

He never really liked cooking, he just liked making him happy

When there’s nothing left to cook, when all the stalls are closed and his hands had began to shake, he sits on his couch with his ancient phone he’s taken pains to upkeep so the data would never be loss. Texts, photos, all of that is useless to him as useless as he is now. All he has is a number that won’t pick up and a voicemail of better times.

He dials the number he knows by heart, always a bit thankful that his old self preferred the older models with the touch pads. When the number hit voicemail, the phone lost somewhere in the ruins of Insomnia, his breath caught in his throat.

“Hey, this is Noctis, if you’re calling because you need a favor or good news, leave a voicemail because I’m either fighting daemons or sleeping, let's be real here. Hey! It’s true Specs...what do you mean act more ‘professional’, this is plenty serious. At least I didn’t hard wire in chocobo music like Prompto did! Anyways, leave a voicemail for any of those things, bye!”

Ignis choked on a broken sob, fingers decorated with scars and burns along his forearms. The scent of cooking grease sticks to him like a second skin now, and though he cooks so much he gives most of it away.

It’s just… hard.

Noct, you are king. one cannot lead by standing still. A king pushes onward always, accepting the consequences and never looking back

~~even if the consequences are you?~~

~~even if~~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Self harm isn't just cutting. Sometimes its overworking yourself, other times its just not bothering to stop something from hurting you. 
> 
> As you could tell, Ignis suffers from what I combined to be depression/mild psychosis and a loss of identity. I mean, the man spent every day from age six taking care of Noctis, that's bound to have some lasting effects suddenly having loss someone who made up so crucial of what you think of yourself. 
> 
> I took a different path from Gladio's in a sense that he's almost stuck in the past, and thus the writing style reflected that. Hope you liked it!


	3. The Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER IS ESPECIALLY FOR YOU TYN, HOPED YOU ENJOYED IT YOU LITTLE SHIT 
> 
> ....I had too much fun with this chapter. You'll see why. Other than that, thank you people for the kudos and such, even if this deviated from normal my writing style quite a bit. Just wanted to have some fun with formatting and making Tyn cry ^^

 

Prompto doesn’t try to pretend he’s okay.

Hammerhead has always been welcoming, straight from the gecko, so maybe it’s not a surprise that it's there where he retreats to after the dawn. Cindy and her ‘paw-paw’ are there to greet him with open arms, and it’s as if he almost never left. He settles back down in the caravan that’s almost become his home over the last ten years, picks up working at Cindy’s garage. He’s good with his hands, and she pays him in food and smiles.

~~He doesn’t dare try to be happy, because that wouldn’t be fair to Noct~~

The desert is beautiful, but it’s also like looking into the sun. So bright it blinds you when you look too closely.

~~Maybe that's in the end what his and Noct's relationship was about. Noct was the sun and he was the planet, and when planets get too close they burn away~~

It works, burying his head in work and learning how to _breath_ again, for about a month. And then, and then -

_“Alright, mission accomplished!” Prompto cheered, holding his camera high above his head in victory._

_Noct was smirking at him, waving a hand in his direction. “Thanks to who?”_

_Prompto batted his eyes, pretending to swoon into Noct’s open arms. “My hero, Noct!”_

He doesn’t really know what started it. Maybe it was one his photos, one of the last ones he took before Noct...yeah. Maybe it was the way Cindy patted his shoulder, that should have made him ecstatic but all he could see was the shadow of a boy that wasn’t there, not really. Maybe it was when he went on an errand for Takka, on his hands and knees scurrying for food, and he just happened to look up and catch the way the light glinted off the nearby cliff and all he could think about was _oh, t_ _hat’s where Noct’s buried -_

And the guilt hit him, because he’s alive, but his best friend is dead. And - And - isn’t that just life? Because Noct had so much to give, so much to do, and yet -

He’s the one who’s buried in a far off tomb only three people hold the key to, and Prompto’s living when he’s just a useless _machine_ in the end.

hey, what are you laughing at? i could’ve died!

but we got the perfect shot and had ourselves some crazy fun!

oh man, you should’ve seen your face. wish i’d snapped that, too!

Prompto…

Barely a month into his new found life where his best friend is dead, and Prompto gives into the grief.

He’s not like Gladio, who can power through everything and seems to be rebuilding Insomnia all by himself. He’s not like Ignis, who mourns but also has already learned to move on with his life and continue doing great things. He knows, rationally, that Noct would have wanted him to move on, to make a place in the world for himself -

~~But he can’t, and it hurts~~

Because -

Prompto, in the end, is just a nobody chosen by a somebody. And like a plant tasting it’s first taste of sunlight, he just can’t get enough of Noct’s friendship, his laugh, just -

Ignis and Gladio wouldn’t understand. Not really. They have families who cared about them, roles in life they were never unsure of. They never had a taste of freedom after years of being trapped underground snatched away from you.

 _“Tell me. Were you worried about me?”_ _  
_ _Noct looks at him like he’s stupid. “Of course I was. What kind of question is that?”_

_Prompto felt a brief rush of shame at his idiotic phrasing, but he had to get this out before the words would choke him. “Of course. That's why you came, like I believe you would.”_

_“Prompto…”_ _  
_ _“That's why I told myself I couldn't die. Not until I could see you and hear you tell me I'm not a fake -” He hesitates, and slowly, his hand reaches out to Noct’s. “That I'm the real me.”_

_“Sorry.” Noct looks pained, their hands inches apart, hovering over each other in equal part loss and hope._

_"Don't be.” Prompto takes the initiative, closing the gap between their fingers and squeezing. “Everything's alright now because you’re here.”_

He’s drowning in his grief.

~~There’s nothing that doesn’t remind Prompto of him~~

Cindy urges him to go to Insomnia, that there are thousands of people from all different walks of life there, that he has enough skills and supplies he could go and find a counselor to talk to. He refuses every time, because this is his _punishment_.

His sun’s gone and left an explosion not unlike a supernova streaking across the sky and Prompto was drawn too close during orbit.

Everyone at Hammerhead is too good to him, Cindy especially. Once upon a time, he could have fancied a relationship with his ‘grease-monkey goddess’, but those days have long and passed like the endless night. She will always be untarnished gold to him though, love for her of as a distant star.

(Because he learned what happens when you get too close to stars, because stars are suns too and everything eventually dies someday)

you guys are like..the only friends I’ve ever known

i just hope that things can stay the way there were

Gladio calls almost half a year after Noct’s death with ideas of meeting up, but when the actual day of arrival comes, he can’t go through with it. He can’t stand together with the very same people who just managed to move on like it’s nothing, that their king was nothing!

~~He knows that it isn’t fair, that they’re mourning too, but it’s hard to think clearly when there’s a tornado in his head slamming their fists against the wall~~

Instead, he hides himself away in the caravan, head tucked against his knees and thumb over the bar code as he hears Ignis ask about him outside. Eventually, he left too, and Prompto muffled his broken sobs into his pants.

_Three AM drives through the city as the wind rushed into the open-top car, french fries burning his mouth and soda freezing his inner thighs._

_Noct leans over briefly to steal a fry, and the two of them lock gazes only for a single moment before breaking into wild laughter as the car sped off down the highway recklessly._

Everyone moves on, but Prompto’s stuck in his head, replaying the same memories, the same songs, the same photos. Anxiously, every day he flips through his cracked and battered camera as the photos slide by like water, barely touching his conscious mind as his fingers shake.

Cindy’s been sending him anxious looks, asking him things like _have you eaten at all today hon me and paw paw can handle the shop why don’t you get some rest -_

And he’s fine. He’s _fine_. So what if he skips a couple of meals here and there? He probably needs to lose the weight anyhow. And he sleep enough, the nightmares are the only issues here.

He dreams of cold hands curled around his own as he screamed _Noct wake up please Noct WAKE UP -_

He’s fine. Nothing’s wrong with him.

i’m gonna make this world a better place. you with me?

uh-huh. ever at your side.

His finger nails are chewed to the quick. He doesn’t leave the caravan much anymore, pushing away the food Cindy leaves at the door and curling up tighter in the bottom bunk to the left.

That bunk was always Noct’s favorite.

The only tangible thing Prompto has left of him, the only thing he can touch and feel, is one of Noct’s spare jackets. Before the crystal, before the dark, before the stupid throne and stupid prophecy, it had been the four of them together at last curled up in one of those dorm rooms. Prompto had complained about the cold, and Noct had pulled out one of his jackets for him. The smell is long gone, and the fabric is thin and wore with holes in it by now, but some days, he could pretend. He could shove his face into the fabric, lie on Noct’s favorite bunk and play music through his phone to block out the silence.

Then, he let himself imagine that he isn’t so alone in the world.

_The motel is quiet except for the two of them, crammed into a double bed not meant for two grown men as they lean into each other’s sides and giggle the night away._

_Noct hushes him when he laughs too loudly, both their faces illuminated by their phones as they curled their bodies together, both of them tactile as they come._

_“You’ll wake Iggy and Gladio up,” Noct smiles into his hand, all fever bright eyes and sugar stains around his mouth._

_Prompto smiles back, easy as breathing. “No way jose!” He says with the accent, just to watch Noct crack up and do his best to hide it in his pillow._

It’s been a year now, and the alcohol is warm against his hand as he stumbles into the wilderness, walking for what feels like miles until his feet touch achingly familiar stone.

Ah, Tomb of the Chosen. The last king of Lucis, the one to bring back the dawn.

His footing stumbles, and he laughs as his side leans against the door, hand already fumbling for the key hanging off his phone case as he unlocks the heavy door.

“Noct…” He slurs, taking another gulp of the heavy liquid. What bottle was that now? Three, four?

Prompto pauses to think about it, but changes his mind after his eyes skirt the stone figure lying across the dias in front of him, engine blade tucked against his heart. He takes another big gulp, finally calling it quits and sliding to his knees right before the figure.

He must have blacked out, because then he’s sitting with his back against the dias, bottle empty on the ground next to him and tear tracks down his face.

“Noct,” He whispers, throwing an arm up over his eyes as he rests his head. “I miss you. I really, really miss you.”

“I don’t think I can keep on doing this, buddy. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I lied to Iggy and Gladdy, I’m sorry I lied to you about where I’m from. I’m sorry I can’t be strong like you would have wanted for me to be.”

He closes his eyes, imagining just for that very moment, he could feel Noct with him, sitting next to him goofing off as they often did as teenagers.

“I’m sorry I’m not good enough.”

_“Think what you will, but I think you’re good enough for me.”_

_Black hair highlighted by the the rising sun, close eyed smiles as they spun around each other in circles, laughter rising to the mountains peaks and lowest valleys._

_“Seriously though, thanks for making time for this loser.”_

 

“...Please come back, Noct.”

“Because I want to visit you too soon.”

  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

_“Walk tall, my friends.”_

  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

you guys...are the best

~~i love you guys~~

  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“So how far we going?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve plenty of time.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Survivor guilt (or survivor's guilt; also called survivor syndrome or survivor's syndrome) is a mental condition that occurs when a person believes they have done something wrong by surviving a traumatic event when others did not"
> 
> I had a lot of fun with Prompto, for obvious issues. He's one of my favorite characters, and I wanted to expand upon his implied issues within the game and anime can blow up to a ticking time bomb with the right triggers, namely survivor's guilt and some pretty bad depression. 
> 
> Lots of metaphors this time around, and sadness. I hope people understood the ending?
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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